I Am Love

First of all, the title. What the ...? I thought the movie would make it clear who exactly love was, but that, like a lot of things, is left up in the air.

I Am Love, and its magnificent star, Tilda Swinton, are gorgeous to behold. The modern-day Italian aristocracy sure does show well. Swinton's Emma is always elegantly turned out, beautifully coiffed and a superb hostess, to boot. As the wife of a fabulously wealthy industrialist, she's had to host her share of dinner parties at their villa. And, she enjoys it. Despite having an entire staff at the ready, Emma enjoys preparing meals, especially one of her son's favorites -- an old recipe she recalls from her native Russia.

Apparently, Swinton learned to speak not only Italian, but Russian-accented Italian, for this film. If only the screenplay were worthy of such a feat.

Swinton is marvelous to look at, but after dozens of close-ups where the camera lingers (and lingers ...) on her, you start to wish there were a story here.

Oh, some stuff happens. The company that created all this wealth is going to be sold. Tilda's daughter decides she's a lesbo. And, Tilda's son meets a young chef who will become Tilda's lover. (Hey, maybe he is love?)

He's horribly miscast. Rugged is one thing. But, this guy just looks unclean. He and Tilda cook together, she eats his food, she gives him that Russian fish recipe, blah, blah. It takes two hours for this stuff to unfold, and none of it -- none of it -- seems to matter.

This is the second movie I've seen this month where a character solves a "mystery" (that he/she didn't even realize existed) by finding red hair where it wasn't supposed to be. (The other was The Kids are All Right, which also stunk.) Hair!? HAIR?! Carolyn Keene left better clues than that in the Nancy Drew series.

So, then the drama becomes melodrama, and really, the whole thing just goes to hell. But, it never ceases to be beautiful to look at. Skip it.